


On the Contrary

by junipersand



Category: Minecraft (Video Game), Video Blogging RPF
Genre: Gogy (George), Good is deranged, Goodboyhalo - Freeform, Nightmare (Dream), Opposite AU!, Pandas (Sapnap), dream is a builder not a fighter, everyone is scared of good, george is an ass, niki is done with everyone, sapnap is too precious and scared, tubbo and tommy just switch personalities actually, will always be marked as completed
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2020-10-21
Updated: 2020-11-16
Packaged: 2021-03-09 00:40:59
Rating: General Audiences
Warnings: Graphic Depictions Of Violence
Chapters: 2
Words: 6,858
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/27135374
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/junipersand/pseuds/junipersand
Summary: Here in the Nightmare SMP, it’s not the demons you should be scared of. One wrong step and suddenly you’re in the mercy of an angel. May the Gods have mercy on your soul, because the angel has fallen.
Comments: 30
Kudos: 323





	1. Chapter 1

**Author's Note:**

> Note:
> 
> GoodBoyHalo - BadBoyHalo  
> Will Ash - Wilbur Soot  
> Gogy - GeorgeNotFound  
> Nightmare - Dream  
> WaspFlame - Antfrost  
> Pandas - Sapnap  
> Geppy - Skeppy
> 
> Everyone else is virtually the same!

“God fucking damnit, I should’ve burned their bases when they were celebrating their victory.”

Wasp glanced at the white-haired angel, whose expression was very un-angel-like. “You can’t burn obsidian, Good.”

GoodBoyHalo kicked the fence off its hinge, sending it tumbling down the cliff. “Yeah, you’re the smartass, motherfucker! I have _magic_ ,” he snapped exasperatedly. “And _you three_ ” he pointed at the three standing behind them, grouping together and wincing at Good’s tone, “—are absolutely fucking useless.” He took hold of the handle of his sword, growling like a feral animal at the cowering trio. “I should just cut you all down—”

A hand pulled his shoulder and yanked him from ever drawing his sword. Good tumbled backwards, but he maintained his balance, and his glare was trained onto the person that prevented him from committing murder.

“By the Gods, calm down,” Wasp huffed, ignoring Good’s metal-searing glare. “Stop trying to kill people that you don’t like.”

Good took his hand off his sword and whipped to the brunet. “If that were true,” he hissed, “you would be dead where you stand.” He shook the man’s hand from his shoulder in disgust. Turning to the cowering trio, his scowl deepened, but his initial bloodlust was no more. “You’re all disappointments.”

He stormed off into the direction of their base. As if they needed evidence of their leader’s fury, he made clear of his anger by unsheathing his sword and running it through the trunk of a tree. It was rare to see the man so worked up over a petty argument. Sure, he was pissed when some kid named Tubbo tried to blow him up, but this was over the top.

Gogy turned to Nightmare, who could barely stand straight from fear. He then turned to Pandas, who was sitting on his knees with tears in his eyes.

“We’re all going to die anyways,” Gogy muttered, wiping sweat from his brow with his dark hoodie. “What’s the point of all of this?”

Wasp raised an eyebrow at him. “Shut it, emo boy.” He waved his hand in the air, waving him off. “Go do something useful and plunge your head in a bucket of water.” Wasp scurried off to god knows where. Nobody knows where he lives, what he does, but he always comes whenever Good demands his presence.

And that was the end of the so-called Potion War. To be frank, neither of them recalled why the war even began in the first place, or why their leader was so invested in spending his time fighting an adolescent teen whose voice still cracks whenever he screams too loud. All they knew was that they don’t get paid enough for whatever happens in their life.

Gogy sighed, barely acknowledging his two friends. He casted his gaze over the barren cliff, and stared over to the borders of Poggop. Compared to the Night SMP, they had nothing, they were poor. But there was a campfire at the center of those walls, surrounded by the people that they were supposed to see as their enemy. There was laughter as they passed food around and shared blankets with each other.

They were supposed to be the powerful ones. The ones with power, riches and all those resources. But to the people of Poggop, they were nothing but tyrants on a seat of bloody gold. While they had friends and found family, the Night SMP had bloodshed and one-sided massacres. Life in a world like this was never peaceful, and every day was like stepping on a landmine, fresh and bringing unexpected yet painful surprises.

Gogy sighed and turned back to the direction of their base.

“Come on Night, come on, Pandas,” he said, pulling at the back of their clothes. “We better head back soon or Good will demolish your hides.”

* * *

Good glanced outside the window, the black stained glass reflecting his pale skin. The soft melody of the rain came echoed in his room, followed by a clap and flash of thunder. These were the calmer days, where There were no fires from explosives in sight, and no war cries from someone who’s lost someone dear. It was just him, his thoughts and his empty room.

Oh, how he hated it. For the love of god, why is everyone around him such a pussy? He wanted war! He wanted bloodshed! In a world where death wasn’t permanent, he’d expected more of such activities to happen. It was like god bestowed them a gift that could cure any disease known to man, but they’re only using it for papercuts and the common cold.

He frowned at the empty parchment, with only two sentences written. He’d yet to reply to Geppy, who was the leader of the Gnius SMP. It was the only form of his entertainment – especially after he drowned his entire SMP with lava then lava-casted it to make the second layer of obsidian – and he was still waiting for a reply from him, but it was mostly for his reaction. Even so, it was getting boring. You could only mess with someone so many times.

Good sighed, tuning out the empty room and focusing only on his thoughts.

* * *

“You were amazing, Tubbo!” Tommy clasped his hands together in front of his chest, his eyes sparkling at the sight of his leader in green and diamond. “You just talked shit to GoodBoyHalo and blew his stuff up!”

Tubbo puffed his chest out, snickering as his best friend showered him in praises. “Yes, praise me more, Tommy,” he declared. “I _was_ pretty brave when I called Goodie-two-shoes a bitch.”

From the bonfire, Niki scoffed. “Like hell you did. That son of a bitch wrecked you.” She took a gulp of her chicken broth, her eyes locked into a glare and her expression dark with spite. Her hair was a mess, cut short as a boy’s, with leaves and grass sticking from the tuffs of her head like a demented chicken. “Now that I think about it, I’d rather he kill you.”

Tubbo whipped to Niki. “Come on, you love me. Everybody loves me!” He tossed his wooden cup aside absentmindedly. It landed towards Will and knocked over his stack of cards. The man stared at the ruined pile, still holding two cards in air, then stared over. “Who doesn’t? I’m too likeable. Not like that obnoxious GoodBoyHalo who flaunts his stupid cape and sticks his nose into our business.”

“Maybe it’s because you keep blowing up his fucking garden.”

The brunet whipped to the woman with a red face. “He was taking all the netherwart. He killed me in the nether and took the fortress for himself. Now he has an unlimited supply of blaze rods and netherwart and we could barely craft a regeneration potion.”

Tommy blinked. “Is that why it’s called the Potion War?”

“Nah. It’s called the disc war and the reason why it started was because I tried to sell drugs from the back of a minivan.”

“Oh.” Tommy gaped. “Is that what happened?”

“No, you idiot!”

Will set down his cards and let it all collapse in the gentlest way possible. The cards fluttered to the ground like butterflies. “Pardon me, but I do not think our actions are befitting those of a rebellion.” He kept his cool when Tubbo shot to him, arms crossed indignantly. “We are literally justifying theft and trickery from those with higher power. What’s more is that we have lost that same war and laughing at the victors.”

“Will, come on. That’s not very pog of you to put us down like that. We were being oppressed by a tyrant, so we took him down a notch. What’s so wrong about that?”

“If it wasn’t for the obsidian bunker Eret made, we wouldn’t have survived; much less win.”

“No, but—”

Tubbo stopped himself as he did not have any more words to say. He spluttered words and tripped on his tongue, glaring at Will when he was out of arguments to counter. Though, bless Tommy, he was the only one here that supported him even if they were to jump off ac cliff together without any safety precautions. Without him, Tubbo didn’t know what he’ll do.

Actually, he does. He’d probably be president of the world by now without Tommy holding him back. Geez, the blond was so clingy!

“Also, I’ve never seen GoodBoyHalo with a cape before.”

Tommy and Tubbo turned to Will, looking at him as if he were insane.

“Are you blind, Will?” Tubbo demanded. “Like, actually. Are you? That’s one smug ass cape if I’ve ever seen one.”

“That’s not a cape,” Wilbur clarified. “They never were.”

“What are they, then?”

“They’re—”

* * *

“Fucking son of a bitch!” Good scalded, snow white wings outstretched as Nightmare surprised him in the hall. His wings reacted like an animal tail, spreading outwards like a spring and knocking stuff over like a feline. “What the hell are you doing here? Don’t you have your boyfriends to tend to?”

Nightmare winced, dropping the stack of cobblestone stairs he was holding. “G—Good!” he yelped, taking steps back from the unfinished archway. “I’m sorry. I didn’t hear you coming and—”

“Oh, for god’s sake.” Good waved his hand dismissively. “I don’t fucking care. Just stay out of my way and we won’t have any trouble. You got that, Night?”

Nightmare flinched at the angel’s venomous tone. He did his best to stay out of the angel’s way, scrambling to get his dropped blocks and dodging Good’s feathers that reached down to his ankles. When his leader was finally gone, he turned back to the empty archway, what once was a barren hall transformed into a breathtaking structure. There bare obsidian walls were no more, now decorated with countless blocks that complimented the dark theme.

Sighing, Nightmare shook his head and did his best to get the shock from his system. Good had been in a terrible mood since the ending of that war, and he just had to get in his way again. He should know better than to show himself in front of their leader when he was brooding. He needed to do better next time.

He spent the rest of the evening working on the final details of the décor, working and changing until his pickaxe was finally worn out. It had been a stone one, as Good didn’t trust any netherite pickaxes near Dream as he knew he would only waste in on building. He didn’t mind using a stone one, as there was no need for rush when it came to art. It was the best option to save all the netherite for the people who can fight.

“Hey, ’mare,” Pandas called, catching his friend’s attention from the further side of the hall. He was carrying a small animal in his arms, which Nightmare recognized it as a chicken. When he was right in front of his friend, he held up the chicken to his face and introduced his new friend. “This is Sketchy. I found him right outside of our base and he looked lonely.”

Nightmare stared at the chicken, and to his friend’s beaming face. “Good’s going to kill it once he sees,” he whispered softly. “Then he’s going to punish you again. You have to throw it out, Pandas.”

Pandas’ face turned sad. “I already named him,” he mourned. “But you’re right. If Good finds out—”

“You two have a death wish,” Gogy interrupted Pandas, yawning despite having slept for hours. “I say we kill it and serve it to Pandas for dinner.”

Tears rushed to Pandas’ eyes. He clutched the chicken closer to him. “You can’t do that to Sketchy!” he cried, leaning away from his black-parade friend. “He’s done nothing wrong! You can’t just kill things because you want to!”

“On the contrary, that’s the belief our whole SMP is built on.” Gogy shrugged. “Just chuck it over a cliff before Good finds out. He’s a hellhound when it comes to animals. He hates them just as much as I hate social interaction.”

Nightmare bit his lip. “You’re talking to us, George.”

Gogy glared. He jabbed his finger onto Nightmare’s chest, jabbing harder and rougher with each word he spits. “Do. Not. Call. Me. _George_.” He pushed Nightmare in disgust, forcing him to crash into the wall behind him. “Do you hear me, you bitch?”

Pandas rushed to Nightmare’s side, helping him to his feet. Nightmare grunted, surprised by the sudden physical violence. “You okay, ’mare?” He turned to Gogy, but his brave façade died as soon as he met Gogy’s steely glare. “You… you can’t just push people around…” His voice turned into a meek lisp. “It’s… not nice.”

“Not nice?” Gogy snorted. “I’ll show you what’s not nice when I tell Good that you snuck another animal into the base.”

Pandas paled, fear overtaking his limbs as he could do nothing but watch the black-clad man rush off to find the angel helplessly. Gogy was off before he could even find his voice, darting straight towards the direction that Good disappeared to. He choked on his sobs, fear racking his body as the chicken clucked around aimlessly.

“Hey, it’s okay,” Nightmare said quickly. “If you hurry, then you can still get rid of Sketchy before he finds out. Everything will be okay. Come on. I’ll do it.” He scooped up the chicken in his arms and darted towards the nearest window. But before he could chuck it out, he froze as he heard a thundering voice boom within the walls of the hallway.

“Oh, Nightmare. Oh, Pandas!” Good called, his voice maniacal as he found a reason to give punishment that would serve no other purpose than his amusement. “Which one of you snuck a chicken in here?”

Nightmare looked around in shock. His limbs turned to jelly as soon as he heard Good’s voice, and his mind refused to work. Behind Good, Gogy was still yawning, but there was a hint of comedic humor hidden in his eyes. Sick bastards. With a chicken in his hand, there was really no other way he could explain this, but Good’s already punished Pandas too much and—

“I—it’s me,” Pandas confessed with a shaky voice. He fell to his knees as tears streamed down his face. His entire body shook with fear and horror for his fate. “I brought the chicken. Mare— _Nightmare_ had nothing to do with it.”

Nightmare stared at his best friend in shock. The chicken was still in his hands, as if it were realizing the severity of the situation. He turned to Good, who was grinning wildly as he unsheathed his netherite sword.

“Bring it here,” he commanded Nightmare, holding out his weapon.

Pandas’ eyes widened. “No!”

Good scoffed and ignored him. “Hurry up, Nightmare. Do it or I’ll punish you too!”

Nightmare’s brain raced, but he could think of nothing. The chicken squawked and tried to fly from Nightmare’s grasp, but fear had forced his fingers around the bird like lead. Then, before he could even think, his body obeyed. He reacted to fear and what would keep him safe. His legs moved forward, his arms holding the chicken out, laying it out for a bloody execution.

“Gogy.” Good turned to the man behind him. “Hold Pandas down. I want him to watch every bit of this.”

Gogy shrugged, acting nonchalant. He tackled the tearful adult to the ground before he could stop their leader, and forced him to the ground. He grabbed a fistful of his hair and pulled his sight to the gruesome scene: Good swinging his sword only once, and the chicken’s decapitated neck spewing blood like a wonderful scarlet fountain. Blood splattered onto Nightmare’s red shirt and grey jeans, but Good blocked most of the blood with an outstretched wing.

The trickles of blood streamed from his feathers and dripped onto the andesite floor. They were pure and white like snow, despite its owner committing the worst of atrocities. They said to never judge a book by its cover, and one should never judge an angel by the color of their feathers.

Pandas choked on his tears, trying to look away but Gogy had him pinned. When he tried to close his eyes, Gogy would pry them apart. Good smirked, proud of his own actions, and dropped the headless bird right in front of Pandas.

“Now,” Good hummed, voice sweeter than honey but deadlier than poison, “Gogy, would you mind taking him to the pit of agony?” He licked the blood from his sword until he could see his own reflection from the black blade. “That’s a good dear. Make sure he sets his spawn point.”

He turned to Nightmare. “And you too. You’re to watch your best friend drown in lava over and over again… for, hm, let’s say three days at the very least. No food and water. Is that okay with you?”

Nightmare swallowed, his knees buckling, but he managed a meek nod. If he refused or spoke out against it, he would face a worser fate than this. Such as getting eaten alive by hoglins over and over again. Or getting their organs picked out by silverfish. Everything Good came up with always involved countless deaths and bloodshed.

“That’s a good boy.” Good put his hand on Nightmare’s shoulder, smiling as he’s pleased. _Pleased_ that he’s seeing the people around him suffer on his accord. _Pleased_ that they were cowering in his presence.

Gogy released Pandas from his hold and allowed him to stand up. He pointed his axe at Gogy, then Nightmare, leading them towards their punishment worse than death.

All the while with Good’s smile still plaguing their minds.


	2. Chapter 2

Unlike the others, from what Purpled could see, there was a fine line between both good and evil. A thick barrier that separated the different parts of oneself, a paradox that was never meant to be crossed, let alone intersect. That was the rule of the universe. Some things were not meant to come together, just as the tragedies and miracles that were orchestrated by the heart of the world. Like two sides of a coin, and a reflection in a mirror. Sometimes, things just happen, and no matter how hard someone tries to prevent it, it’s not meant to be.

But somehow, as Purpled glanced at the white-haired angel, who stormed past him as if he held a grudge against the pavement – that line was suddenly broken, and he saw the face of a stranger instead of Good. Someone out there, from another world entirely, was exactly alike this hellspawn, but at the same time completely different. Someone that contradicts his very existence but they coexist in lightyears apart. Someone that was so similar that they may share the same mindset.

Purpled kept his thoughts private. He held his wolves close to his chest, pulled up his hoodie, and ran.

“Good?” Tubbo scrunched his nose in disgust, having seen his enemy at the crack of dawn. The hostility between the two nation leaders were as old as ever, the same dance that they do every given moment. He put his hands on his hip, pursing his lips as he faced off against the adult. “What the hell are you doing here?”

The sun has began to rise, but not fully. The golden hue of the sky cast upon the lands, dyeing Good’s wings like clouds in a daytime aurora. Good looked around, with a mocking sneer on his face, and gestured to the area around them. “Is this L’Manburg? I do not think so. This is neutral ground, Tubbo. Or has your ego inflated such that you think the world belongs to you?”

Tubbo glared at him. It was true – they were not in L’Manburg nor were they in Good’s territory. By technicality, it belonged to Nightmare, but he had given the rights all to Good. Neither of them had rights here, but they had their weapons, and a very sharp mouth. Heaven forbid that they would ever be pit against each other in a debate rally.

“Do you think that I’m stupid? Oh, Mister ‘My name is Good, but I’m not good at anything and dedicates all his time threatening teenagers who just want peace and some deranged, sadistic pedophile that would just fuck right off. In fact, I’m so _bad_ at everything that I’m _good_ at it.’ I’m surprised that you could walk all this way without having your slaves to carry you here.”

Good snorted. “That was a fair point and a good argument,” he agreed, crossing his hands behind his head. The sun was rising, illuminating their chocolate locks to a caramel hue. “Especially coming from someone who can’t even read his own declaration of independence. Or any of your speeches, to be fair. You probably just get your lackey to write it all for you and take the blame when you pronounce _independence_ wrong.”

Tubbo stabbed his sword into the ground. “Tommy is not my lackey!” He began a rant that involved various profanity, curses that involved mothers and interesting metaphors that could only be understood by people who had next to no braincells.

Good spaced out within the first ten seconds, keeping his eyes on anything but the screaming teen. His expression was plastered to one of disinterest, having no qualms in furthering extending this stupidity for any longer. Tubbo was now listing off all the names that he would call Good after he dropped into a pit of rotting salmon. Good turned to the birch forest that had yet to be cut down, still untouched despite all the wars.

In the midst of Tubbo’s cursing train, Good swiveled to the direction of the forest, and left this conversation without any further statement. Tubbo paused, having realized that he was being ignored, screamed one last and _loud_ name at him: “GOODIE-TWO FUCK BOY!”

Good raised a hand, and gave him the finger, ignoring the teen completely. He heard Tubbo storming off, angered by the sound of how hard he was trying to flatten the wooden path with nothing but his feet and his fury alone. Good hoped he broke his ankle. It would make his shitty morning a bit better.

He stepped foot into the vacant birch forest. His ears perked whenever he stepped on dead leaves, or when the leaves rustled in the gentle breeze of the wind. He waited for the abnormal sound to echo in the forest, where any of his enemies would use the cover of the forest to take him out of the picture permanently. So far, after moments, he found none. No one was in this forest but him, and Tubbo hadn’t followed. He was alone.

Breathing a sigh of relief, Good found a firm tree that was facing a clearing in the forest, where a ring of trees surrounded the clearing like a ritual, allowing sunlight to touch the grass floor. There were critters roaming about; rabbits, birds and squirrels, nothing life-threatening. It was peaceful, but not in the way Good despised. It was peaceful because there was nobody else, and he was alone with his own thoughts, and only his own. There was nobody else that was near him.

He stretched his wings outwards, sat on the grass floor between the roots and leaned on the tree trunk. He crossed his arms, nestling into the small crevice as his wings covered him like a protective barrier. With a relaxed sigh, he closed his eyes and drifted off into a gentle blanket of sleep.

Reality flickered, just for a split second. One flicker, there was only Good beneath the right side of the tree. On the other, there was a stranger, clad in black on the left, also asleep, but there was someone in blue right by him. On the third flicker, they were both there, but the blue figure was gone. There was a man in black on the left, and Good on the right. They were both peacefully asleep, but the stranger did not have wings, instead having a pair of horns the color of blood.

On the fourth, there was only Good and nobody else under the tree.

Good stirred in his sleep, his brows pressed together as he felt his fists clench.

_Oh, Bad!_

_Come on, Bad!_

Good felt his body tensing. There was a torch burning in his stomach.

_C’mere, Bad!_

_Bad?_

His head turned, his neck cracking. His eyes were glued shut. He can’t open them.

_Manburg? Pogtopia?_

_Who cares!?_

Good’s eyes flailed wide open before he could see three steps in front of him. His entire body wracked with stiffness, limbs twitching from adrenaline that coursed through his veins. Sirens wailed in his ears. His wings snapped open as soon as he regained his senses.

Only that he didn’t expect to knock anyone over.

“Woah!” a voice cried out, followed by a thud and the rustle of leaves. “Calm down there! You should not be running around with _those_ things!”

Good whipped to the voice, his eyes still very much wild and tense, his breathing shallow and quick from his adrenaline rush. He stared wide-eyed at the stranger, his body refusing to react to the stimulus that was in the form of a young teen.

It took moments, perhaps minutes, that Good managed to calm his erratic breathing and address the elephant in the room. He rubbed his eyes with his hands, wiped the sweat from his brow, then finally— _finally_ turned to the teenager that was sitting right next to him, staring at him with innocent eyes as if he were some circus animal performing a dumb trick—

Good’s face fell the instant he set his eyes on him.

“ _You_ ,” Good hissed, shooting to his feet. “Why the fuck are you here? Did you fucking stalk me?”

Tubbo raised his hands in surprise. “What the hell? I came into this forest and I saw you sleeping in the middle of nowhere. I stayed here to protect you from the mobs! If anything, you should be thanking me, you mop-hair.”

Mop-hair? Good ran a hand through his hair. He snorted in retaliation. “Like that’s the first time someone called me that.” Actually, it was, because no one dared say it to his face. Tubbo was the only one that dared talk shit about his presence, but his insults were the least creative things he would ever hear in his life. If there was a category of the _least_ creative insults in the world, Tubbo would be the only competition and participant.

“Anyway,” Tubbo continued, standing and brushing dust from his shirt. “What’s your name, and who invited you here? The last time someone illegally invited someone into our continent, they got evicted in like, thirty minutes. God, what a waste of drug money!”

“Drug money,” Good repeated.

“Drug money.” Tubbo held out a pufferfish with his hands. “Have a stress-reliever.” More pufferfish fell from his pockets. “They’re good for your nerves.” There was the tail of a pufferfish poking out from his mouth.

Good stared at this teen. Whoever this was, it’s obviously not Tubbo. The Tubbo he knew would at least say something stupid then fall on his own face. This impostor tried offering him a poisonous fish while eating one himself. He’s stupid, but not _that_ stupid. Also—was Tubbo wearing a buttoned collar shirt? The only person who would ever wear such a monstrosity is TommyInnit, and it was supposed to be red, not green.

“Who are you?” Good demanded. It couldn’t be another one of L’Manburg’s allies. He hadn’t heard of any activity happening recently, especially only a day after the Potion War.

Fake Tubbo tilted his head. “Tubbo. You?”

Good’s eye twitched. His hand itched for his sword, but he refrained. As much as he would enjoy violence, he was curious on the appearance of this lookalike. Did Tubbo knock his head on a ceiling and lose all his memories? Did he somehow eat enough pufferfish that his brain stopped working?

“Come,” Good said, turning to the direction of civilization. “I need answers, and I don’t have time to play any of your stupid games.”

Fake Tubbo followed him, trailing pufferfish. “Games?” he exclaimed excitedly. “I love games!”

Good groaned. This was going to be a long walk.

The first thing Dream noticed when he opened his eyes, was that he was no longer in Pogtopia. Instead of the cave walls and the eerie drips of water, there was a bright sky, and dark walls that stretched to the sky. The sky he was used to seeing was filled with smoke and ash, the clouds forever ashen grey. But the one he was looking at was bright blue, clear, without a trace or hint of war.

He pushed himself up. The ground was moist, the dirt fertile, unlike the ones that he used to stand on. Where was he? Was he taken somewhere?

“Hey!” a voice cried from his back. “Are you done sleeping on the floor?” It was a voice he recognized. A familiar sound in the land of the unknown. If it was anybody else, he would’ve been tense, but it was someone that he knew well and trusted. Breathing a sigh of relief, he got to his feet and turned, expecting to see the familiar mop of brown hair and bright smile—

Tubbo was scowling instead, hoisting a diamond sword over his shoulder, expression hostile as if he’s gotten mauled in the wild. He glowered at Dream as if he was the scum of the world, stomping towards him and pointing a thumb to the exit.

“Get the fuck out of my land,” he snapped.

Dream stared at Tubbo, his mind and relief coming to a halt. This wasn’t the Tubbo he knew. Instead of a green, button-up collar shirt, this Tubbo wore a lime turtleneck sweater with brown shorts with boots. There was a scar on his neck and bandages around his head and knee. This looked like Tubbo, but not.

“Tubbo?” Dream demanded, aghast. “Where the hell am I?” He looked around, surprised to see that his surroundings weren’t foreign at all. They were all known to him, but it belonged in a memory so old that he would never give it a second thought. The walls. The walls were up again, despite Schlatt tearing it down. “Why are the walls up?”

Tubbo growled. He took the sword off his shoulder and pointed it at Dream. “Shut the fuck up, Night. Stop acting all innocent and get the fuck out.”

Dream raised an eyebrow. What the hell was going on? One minute he was having a picnic with the others, the next he was getting threatened by a feral child. If someone somehow fell down from the sky in the next minute, he wouldn’t be surprised. A shriek distracted the two of them, forcing them to look up to see another figure crashing into the lake.

Dream sighed. Of course.

Tubbo marched forward, momentarily ignoring Dream’s presence. “For fuck’s sake, Tommy, what the hell are you _doing_?” A mop of black hair popped out from the lake, and Tubbo took a few steps back. “You’re not Tommy.” He drew his sword, leering close to the stranger, eyes narrowing as he didn’t recognize the man. “Who _are_ you?”

The man shirked at the sword. Tubbo growled at him like a wild animal. The man cringed and swam back. “What the _heck_?”

Dream arched his head, noting the familiar hairstyle, albeit soggy and wet. His gaze caught the face of the stranger, only realizing that it’s not a stranger. “Ant!” he cried, sprinting over. “Are you okay?” Before he could reach for his friend, Tubbo raised his sword at him, forcing him to step back. “Come on, Tubbo, what the hell is going on?”

Ant stared at Dream, still stuck in the lake. “How come I get such a rough landing?”

“What the fuck is happening?” Tubbo demanded, turning to Ant. “What did you do to Tommy?”

“Does Tommy usually fall out of the sky?” Ant clapped back.

“Well, no, but—”

Dream stepped in front of Ant, shielding him from a nearly snapping Tubbo. “Tommy’s off cussing off Bad somewhere. Tubbo, please, drop your weapon and we can talk this out—” Tubbo lost his patience and charged, sword pointing at Dream’s chest. He heard Ant crying out a warning, but there was no need. Dream turned as soon as Tubbo’s sword grazed his chest, and hooked Tubbo’s ankle with his foot, and pinned him to the ground and the sword dropped from his hand in clatters.

The blond released a sigh of relief. He folded Tubbo’s arm behind his back and kicked the sword out of his reach, all the while ignoring some loud curses coming from the teenager. Some things were not meant to be heard or said but Dream witnessed it all. _Since when did Tubbo start calling him a pedophile?_

Ant climbed out of the lake, soaking wet. He took off his helmet, and a gush of water poured from the crevices and onto his hair. “I hate water,” he murmured, shaking his head.

Dream turned to the trapped teen. “Tubbo, try to listen to me.” He grunted, struggling to keep the teen down. Since when had Tubbo grown so strong? It’s nothing he can’t handle, but the fact that Tubbo managed to train himself in the span of… a few weeks? Days? He didn’t know. “We’re not your enemies. Just, try and calm down.”

“WHAT THE FUCK?” Tubbo demanded. “How did you get so strong? How did you learn how to fight?”

Dream frowned. “For a long time?” he answered skeptically. “Tubbo, I have questions, and you’re going to answer them, okay?”

“Like hell,” Tubbo spat. “You signed a fucking contract, Nightmare. You broke the rules by coming into our walls. You know what this could lead to? _War_.” He turned his glare to Ant. “And it doesn’t matter if you brought a new friend. He looks weak as shit. Will could eat him for breakfast. Hell, I bet Tommy could take him in a fight and win.”

Ant and Dream exchanged glances. Ant drew an air circle beside his temple, shrugging and gesturing at feral Tubbo. Water dripped from his armor and onto the unpaved floor.

“Wait,” Dream noticed. He released Tubbo out of shock. “What did you just call me?” He kept his eyes on the teen, as he scrambled to his feet and picked up his sword. He wasn’t sure if he heard himself correctly. Ant looked equally surprised by the names, of which all seemed normal, except for one. “What’s my name, Tubbo?”

Tubbo leveled his sword at him. “You’re a fuckin’ weirdo, _Nightmare_.”

Tommy would consider himself to be a rational, level-headed, calm and collected person… when he’s actually had the time to think about his actions and mull over his behavior. But this—whatever _this_ situation was, was most definitely not the time to be calm and collected.

He looked around, and noticed that he was in a foreign place, somewhere that isn’t Badlands, Pogtopia or Manburg. It was somewhere that he’s never been before, but at the same time, it brought back a feeling of nostalgia. It was as if he was a farmer in a rural area, leaving for years, then returning to a civilization that had flying cars and floating tables. He’d been here, once upon a time, but not for long. A faint memory of a village and an accident with an iron golem, a first meeting with different faces…

Is this the Idots SMP? But it looks so… _advanced_. Buildings were majestic and all of them were polished in the greatest detail. Even from here, he could see the faint outlines of various farms that would take years to build. Right next to him was a structure built of pure iron and quartz, two of the most common yet difficult to obtain in mass quantities materials. It was a place with advancement, peace, and prosperity.

(Except for that one building that was covered in cobble, as if someone had lava-casted it.)

Footsteps boomed behind him. Drawing his sword in caution, he turned around, to see a stranger in orange.

“Who are you?” the stranger demanded.

“AHHHHHHHHHHH!”

“Shut up, Sapnap! I’m trying to pull you up!”

Sapnap whipped down to the pit of boiling magma beneath him, his body dangling in air with George holding onto his arm. “Yeah? Pull harder!”

From the ledge, George glared at him. His face was red with effort, sweat running down his back. With a grunt, he pulled Sapnap up before he turned into barbeque. George fell on his back, puffing out air as he mumbled reasons why he should’ve just let Sapnap burn to his death.

Sapnap wiped sweat from his forehead. He leaned over the edge to see the magma, bubbling hot and glowing. “Ugh. Hot bath.”

George sat up and whipped to him. “Are you crazy? You could have died.”

“Still. Don’t you think it looks like soup?”

“Sap?”

“Yeah?”

“Please shut up.” George got to his feet, and pulling Sapnap to his. The heat from the magma pool was suffocating, radiating even if they were out of immediate danger. It didn’t take long for him to understand that they were in a trapped space, where they would need to find the exit. The ledge they stood on had a tunnel, a tunnel that led to nothing but a dark space.

George nearly turned away if it wasn’t for the small shift in the darkness. His eyes widened – that dark space wasn’t empty, after all. There was someone there, bound in chains that were linked to the wall, preventing their escape. Sapnap followed his eyes and found the prisoner too, except he was less shocked and approached the bound figure almost instantly, ducking his head and hand on wall to support himself. George hushed at him, but his friend paid no heed.

Sapnap knelt down to the prisoner, as the space was too low to stand.

“Hello?” he asked. “Can you hear me?”

The man stirred, presumably from his sleep, and turned towards Sapnap’s voice. His eyes were still closed. The chains around his neck jingled as he moved.

“Pandas?” he rasped. “Is it… is it over?”

Sapnap paused. He hadn’t used or heard that name in years. The man’s body turned tense, his voice turning frantic as he continued to call out a single name.

“Pandas! Tell me if you’re okay. Please. Are you okay?” The man refused to open his eyes, but he wanted someone to respond anyway. What were they supposed to do? His voice also sounded recognizable, like a twisted, uncanny version of someone they knew. Sapnap grew up with that person, and he’d never heard Dream sound so… so _vulnerable_ , so _breakable_.

“I—” Sapnap couldn’t find his voice. He swallowed a mouthful of bile. “I’m not Pandas.” Whoever they were calling, it wasn’t him. “What’s your name?”

The man paused. “But… you sound like him,” he whimpered. “Is this a trick? Am I being played?” He clenched his teeth, voice cracking with pain and desperation. “Please, Gogy, I don’t want any more of this!”

Sapnap whipped to George, frowning at him as if he’s the perpetrator of all of this. George shook his head wildly, denying the act. He turned back to Dream, putting a hand on his shoulder. “This isn’t a trick. I promise you that. Can you tell me your name, and where we are, and what’s happened to you?” He wasn’t used to comforting anyone, and he couldn’t find the right words to say. “I’m Sapnap, and that’s George. We’re not going to harm you. Can you—can you open your eyes? I’m sorry, but I’m not the person you’re asking for.”

The person fell silent. He looked worse for wear, as if he’s been bound in chains for days. There wasn’t any sign of food or water anywhere, so he couldn’t have been here for long, or he would have died and respawned back at his spawn point.

“Do you promise?”

Sapnap blinked. “Huh?”

“That you’re not going to hurt me.”

Sapnap nodded, though he couldn’t see it. “I promise.”

The stranger pursed his lip, preparing himself to face whatever’s going to come. Sapnap moved himself out of the way as George joined them, holding up a torch, finally giving them a full light of the man’s features.

Their eyes widened as soon as the man opened his.

“Huh?” Bad blinked at the empty fields. There was absolutely nobody here, despite being lively only minutes ago. Had he slept that long? The food was still fresh, and some of the sandwiches looked like they’d been hastily dropped to the floor.

He rose to his feet, pulling his hood closer to him, and looked around. Skeppy wasn’t next to him anymore. Dream and George and Sapnap weren’t chasing each other. Tommy and Tubbo disappeared as well.

“Where is everyone?”

**Works inspired by this one:**

  * [Opposite Au with a twist](https://archiveofourown.org/works/27954554) by [God (Scrumptious_pain)](https://archiveofourown.org/users/Scrumptious_pain/pseuds/God)




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